Inesquecível
by NeoNails
Summary: For this month's Brush Pass at Op:C.A.F.E. "Remembering or reminiscing?" he asked. "Mmm," she breathed, close to his side. "A little of both."


I totally slacked and didn't write anything for January's prompt for _Op: C.A.F.E._, and I do feel kind of guilty about that. I got distracted by other fics (_More Than Melody_, specifically), but I did decide that I needed to write something this time.

I finished this earlyish this month, but I thought it wouldn't be fair to _Op:C.A.F.E._ to post this on at the same time. For anyone that noticed, I have a lj now (well, have had one… but now I'm updating it semi-regularly) and saw that I posted it there. If you're interested, you're always welcome to watch me just read about my writing and occasional ramblings. :)

Anyway, this month's prompt is Portugal, in particular the national anthem _of_ Portugal. I can do this, I swear.

$4$

_Te amo, Te amo, she says to me  
>I hear the pain in her voice<br>Then we dance underneath the candelabra  
>She takes the lead<br>That's when I saw it in her eyes  
>It's over<em>

- "Te Amo," by Rihanna (I don't think I can listen to this song and not want to dance.)

* * *

><p>For the record, she was damned lucky that she took the chance to travel all over the world right after college. If she hadn't, there was no <em>way<em> she would be able to truly appreciate everything that made up this beautiful country.

As it was, she would have _loved_ to spend more time in the Rossio. There was just something so satisfying about traversing the ancient Portuguese mosaic that surrounded the main square, circling round and round until she reached their famed bronze fountain. She remembered having a lovely conversation at 25 with a French man as she lounged on that same fountain and discussed her book on Petrach's greatest works. That was a good memory.

"Okay, Walker, you are thinking so loud I can actually hear the cogs grinding away." Annie repressed a smile, settling for rolling her eyes instead. She did continue to walk alongside him at the same leisurely pace as before, but she couldn't stop from digging her nails pointedly into his bicep.

When he chuckled at her particular form of retribution, he patted her clenched fingers with his free hand. To anyone else circuiting the Casa Santana conference center, they would just look like yet another American couple here to be wined and dined as the height of Portuguese society, both political and elite, were be recognized. In reality, their relationship was much more complicated than that, especially in the midst of a mission.

"I was just remembering the last time I was in Lisbon," she answered softly, low enough for only his ears to pick up. "And believe it or not, I don't _always_ appreciate your Saint Bernard tendencies as much as you think I do."

He just smiled wider and continued tapping his cane against the slick hardwood floor. "Remembering or reminiscing?" Auggie asked, his unseeing eyes glancing over at her knowingly.

"Mmm," she breathed, skirting the glance of a redfaced middle-aged man who was paying far too much attention to her hemline. "Little of both," she finally answered, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

"When was the last time you were here?" he asked, and even though she hadn't said a word about the creeper Auggie pulled her a little bit closer to his side like he knew already. She couldn't even guess how he always managed that, and it never failed to surprise her.

"Nearly five years," Annie said, resting her cheek against his shoulder for a moment as she mourned the loss of time. "I was thinking about the Rossio."

"The what?" he asked intelligently, his brow furrowing. "You know I've never been here before. Most of my geographical memories are rooted in the Middle Eastern areas of the globe. That and certain areas of Europe."

"This _is_ a part of Europe," she reminded him, squeezing his arm gently as they came to a stop by the southeastern-most wall, which gave her a best view of all the patrons.

"Yeah, just not a part I'm familiar with," he quipped, tilting his head so his lips accidentally brushed her ear in the process.

Her breath caught unexpectedly in her chest but she let the moment pass without thought. "Regardless," she said, "I was referring to the _Praça Rossio_. It's one of the most popular main squares in Lisbon. And it's located right outside this hotel."

"Ah," Auggie said as comprehension dawned on him. "Is that why you were murmuring something in Portuguese when we were walking inside?"

"It wasn't Portuguese," she answered, watching as the president stepped up to the recently assembled stage to give his introductory speech, flanked by the usual armed bodyguards. "It was Italian. _Que' ch'infinita providentia et arte._ Petrarch."

"He with that wisdom, goodness, power divine?" Auggie quoted, and whether it was from memory or just a remarkable translation her mouth dropped open in surprise. He seemed to sense her shock immediately—she hadn't noticed that her grip on his arm had completely slackened, but of course he did—so he took mercy on her. "I took an Early Romantic Poetry class senior year of college."

Annie's jaw _clacked_ shut, but that didn't mean any of her confusion had dissipated. The president had been ushered away from the podium and quickly replaced with a young girl, barely 15 if that, who without prompting began to sing.

"_Heróis do mar, nobre povo,_

_Nação Valente, imortal..."_

"Wh—" she stared at him, shifting to one hip restlessly in her heels as she racked her brain as why he would take a class on _Early Romantic Poetry_ in college. And then it clicked. "You were the only guy in the class, weren't you?" she asked, narrowing her eyes in distaste.

"One of two," Auggie replied with a self-satisfied smirk.

"_Levantai hoje de novo_

_O esplendor de Portugal!"_

"Oh, you are just the worst kind of person," she groused, knocking her shoulder against his as an old lady with a dead fox around her neck shot her a funny look.

"I also did need to get my Lit requirement fulfilled," he offered, not looking shamefaced in the slightest. "I figured I might as well get to kill two birds with one stone."

"Is that really the analogy you want to use right now?"

"_Ó Pátria, sente-sa a voz,_

_Doz teus egrégios avós…"_

"It seemed apt," he said with a shrug, and even if she was actually mad at him she couldn't hide the smile. But she wasn't mad at him, not even in the slightest, so she just laughed as the beautiful notes of the anthem surrounded them.

"_Que há-de guiar-te à vitória!"_

As the little girl's haunting voice faded away and was quickly replaced by enthusiastic applause, Auggie's arm shifted from her side to subtly wrap around her waist. Annie's eyebrows hiked as he drew her closer than propriety—and good sense—dictated. "Enough reminiscing for a while," he told her, and there was nothing that boded well for her in that smile. "Let's have some actual fun of our own."

She didn't know how Auggie had ascertained where the dance floor was—she genuinely could not remember pointing it out to him—but he had no problem leading her straight towards it. She did have to pull him away from nearing bowling over some couple in their late fifties once, but otherwise he did a damned good job all on his own.

"We do have an actual job to do," Annie reminded him, but otherwise didn't put up much of a fight. They both knew there was no use in it.

"Ehh, it can wait four minutes," he said breezily, and they settled into an easy rhythm on the dance floor, not all that different from when they walked the bullpen together. The little girl had been replaced by an older, curvier woman who was crooning some Latin song into the microphone in a throaty alto.

"If and when Joan hears about this, I am so telling her that I tried to warn you," she told him, the barely contained laughter making her voice thick. The moment took her, and she quickly lead him into a circle on the dance floor before he could catch his bearings and bring them back to their proper order.

"Am I the woman now?" Auggie asked, catching her wrist more securely and bringing it possessively to his chest.

"Maybe," Annie replied flippantly, the smile lighting up her features beatifically. She never noticed the stares they were garnering as he brought them into a flashier version of the dance than before. "I got tired of you always being the one to lead."

"I guess this is what I get for liking a woman with a mind of her own?"

Quick as a flash, the back of her ankle knocked against his own, nearly tripping him up if not for her own balance. "Watch what you're saying, Anderson," she replied teasingly through her teeth. "I'm the agent that can actually get us out of here in one piece, remember?"

"As if you'd ever let me forget," he replied just as jokingly, his head dipping down nearly to meet hers. "You, Annie Walker, are completely unforgettable."

"You're pretty damn memorable yourself, Auggie Anderson," she replied honestly. And so for the next three and a half minutes, she concentrated on forgetting everybody but the best friend she happened to be lucky enough dance with in one of the prettiest cities in Portugal.

Even if it _was_ for a mission.


End file.
